The Boy's Club
by Wanderlustlover
Summary: Bastard Boys are bound to be drawn to each other, right?
1. The Boy's Club

**The Boys Club**

**Intro the Bar, Scene 1**

Dedicated to HappyMinion, who gets this as a gift for getting me through Spider-Man 2.

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"I don't get it," Harry frowned, grabbing another shot and clutching at it like a lifeline. "And he defends this super-monstrosity that killed my father, saying we're best friends and I should just let it go. And see," he said, in a slurred tone of unconcealed annoyance, after finishing another shot and slamming it down on the counter. "He has these secrets."

"Lemme guess," his companion replied, smoothly with one of those voices that wraps around a person and pulls them. His fingers were toying with the rim of a still-full shot glass at the end of a long row of filled one between them. He picked it up and studied it, finding his reflection in the glass; deep piercing eyes and a shiny hairless head. "He cares and he wishes he could, but he just can't tell you about them?"

He gulped the shot and set the tiny glass down softer than his companion had, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. Though he was sure it wasn't supposed to be funny. "I got one like that, too."

"Sucks, don't it?" Harry replied flippantly. "I mean, they're supposed to be your best friend. Best friends- Well, we never had any secrets as kids, in school, growing up. And suddenly it's all different. There's just so much between us, so much he keeps from me no matter what I," he stopped, his lips moving, trying to find words, dark brown eyes glazed with fire.

"And even when you try to let them talk, they don't. They just say they want you to be there for them. That their grateful your there for them when they fall down, but they just don't have the time of day for you at any other point really," the man beside him started, breaking into the silence the drunken rant had left between them. He tapped his fingers on the counter as if that might have stopped what suddenly came out of his mouth. "Which wouldn't matter so much if you weren't in love with them all at the same time."

"You really do know, don't you?" Harry said, eyes finding the man next to him, like a rock in the middle of a storm. He eyed the pressed nice suite, a mimic to almost everyone else here and laughed; though not quite sure why. Maybe a bottle ago he would have known why, but it didn't really matter now. "What was your name again?"

"Mine?" The man asked himself, finishing off a another of the shot glasses he'd lined up between them three times now. His vision was slightly blurry and his head was filled a pair of bright blue eyes and soft pink lips he couldn't touch anymore. So his voice was smooth and quiet, with an undertone of irony when he spoke. "Well, my father likes to call me his failure of an heir, but my friends -when I have any- call me Lex."


	2. Bastards' Beginnings

**Section:** Part 1, Bastards' Beginnings

**A/N:** Dedicated to Wendi/HM, who somehow wormed her way into my head and made this branch from one cute scene, to lining up timelines, to falling in love with drunk boys...all without even poking me more than once. She's good, isn't she?

**Bastards' Beginnings**

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His hands had started shaking and he really couldn't see straight an hour ago, so when he threw his arms wide open and almost smashed his dripping glass into the person who'd come up right behind him he hadn't felt that generous in apologizing. The man before him was nicely dressed from polished shoes to polished head and damned annoying perfect suit in-between.

"You got a problem? What? You gonna tell my dad with bastard heir can't even get drunk without causing himself to be an embarrassment? Huh? Huh? Are you?"

"No," the man replied, unimpressed, raising a finger to motion to the bar tender.

Harry sneered as if the bar tender, who was trained to know them all well, knowing this mans drink and the man not even giving him a reaction. His fury funneled suddenly from the huge cloud into one single solid person next to him. He hated his suit, his shoes, his attitude, his look, his way of standing and breathing. Everything, That sudden utter loathing filled his voice; "And you would be?"

"Bastard heir number two," the man stated, with a faint amount of amusement to his voice as he picked up his drink from the counter. Service here was always spectacular. The kind of tabs they ran up, it'd have to be. He settled with his side against the bar and looked at Harry. "So tell me, if we find bastard heir number three, then do we get to have a contest to see who really does win the empire they truly detest?"

Harry stared at the man taken aback by his cool calm exterior the whole time, and even more by the things he said. He felt at a loss as how to react, like a deer in the head lights, except that after a few seconds the very edges of his lips twitched in response to the oh, so, stupidly phrased joke of truth.

The man titled his tumbler and took a sip. Then he looked back over at Harry again and asked charitably, in a neutral tone that begged with his expression to almost become conspiratorial. "So what'd you do this time?"

"Nothing important even," Harry replied, resigned, and resettling himself in his bar stool. He wasn't surprised another shot had magically appeared while he wasn't looking. It wasn't like he'd refuse after two hours of this. His fingers landed spread almost like a pale spider-like dome over it, as he stared at the reflection of light on the bar. "I told him I wanted to return to New York City's Empire Stare University. It's where I've been going. It's where all my friends are. And he thinks-"

"No, let me," the man said raising a hand. He stiffened up his back and put on an imposing expression of formality. He put a hand modestly in the center of his chest. "You should be learning to run the company. After all, I won't live forever, you know, and I'll need you to be able to take over and run things...expertly."

Harry laughed, loudly, and swallowed his shot. "Yeah, that sounds about right. He'll come around eventually, I'm sure. We'll compromise on something. Me running some new challenge aka rat race set up by him, and I'll get to keep my classes."

"Sounds better than mine. I'm being sent off to manage some plant in the middle of nowhere," he replied after finishing the tumbler and shaking his head at the bar tenders inquisitive look. His eyes glanced down to his watch and he let out a sigh. "Fourteen hours and twenty three minutes, and then the only things near me will be cows and corn, and *my* fathers new rat race."

"Damn. That's...terrible."

"Yeah."


End file.
